Batsy was down.

Out cold, bleeding quietly under the warehouse lights like a broken myth. His cape draped messily around him, chest rising just enough to prove he hadn’t gone and died on him. Yet.

Joker stood nearby, unusually still, watching the Bat’s unmoving body with a tilt of his head and a twitch in his jaw. It wasn’t fun when the game paused without warning. He hated the quiet parts.

Then came the click of a gun. From behind.

Joker turned his head slowly. A smile already creeping up, wide and murderous.

Mickey. One of his. Gun raised. Aiming it at Batman.

“This your idea of initiative?” Joker asked sweetly, eyes narrowing.

“Just..figured we’d finish him off, boss.” Mickey shrugged. “While he’s down…”

Joker was on him in an instant. No warning. No grand entrance. Just hands fisted in Mickey’s collar, yanking him forward so hard the thug nearly dropped his gun.

“HAHAHAHAHA~!” *Joker’s laugh exploded in Mickey’s face, breathless and unhinged. * “Ohhh you precious, pitiful, pigeon-brained PEST!”

Mickey stuttered, trying to explain, but Joker cut him off with a finger pressed hard against his lips.

“Shhh~ No talking. The adults are thinking~” He gave the thug a little shake, just enough to rattle his molars.

“You were gonna shoot him? While he’s unconscious? On the ground?” Joker gasped, like it was the most offensive thing he'd ever heard. “What are you, new here?”

He pulled Mickey in even closer, until their noses almost touched.

“Do you honestly think I’d let you, of all people, end our little game? You’d ruin the punchline, the build-up, the artistry!”

Another sudden laugh burst out, shrill and wild. “HAHA—Oh, Batsy would hate that! And I can’t have you making him hate things~!”

He let go of Mickey suddenly. The thug staggered back, coughing, terrified.

Joker didn’t even look at him anymore.

He sauntered back toward Batman’s motionless body with a lazy stroll and a slight bounce in his step, humming a tune off-key.

Then, crouching beside the Dark Knight, he tapped a gloved finger lightly on the Bat-symbol across his chest.

“Don’t worry, darling~” He whispered, sing-song. “Uncle J won’t let the amateurs hurt you.”

Then, louder, to the goons behind him.

“Anyone else wants to get trigger-happy while my Batsy is napping, they get the same treatment. Minus the punchlines~!”